


Break the Sky

by KeanBlade



Series: Color of Vermilion- AU's of the au color in red. [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dark!Hashirama, M/M, Tragedy, Worldbuilding, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-07-09 19:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19893073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/pseuds/KeanBlade
Summary: What if Tobirama from truly know had died just a little less quickly? What if Hashirama had just a little more to regret? What if Madara had fallen in love even quicker?





	1. break my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsunesongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunesongs/gifts).



> An AU of my story 'truly know', while it's not necessary to read that it will make more sense if you do.  
> Up dates on this one are slow, it's probably my favorite but that means I want to write it when I'm in the right mood to do it the way I want.

Hashirama doesn’t see it happen, all he knows is red and white when he turns. At first its hard to see what happened with Tobirama in the way and he thinks that Izuna is hurt, that Tobirama _killed_ him (that must be why Madara was screaming in his face) and he speaks before he thinks (always his biggest problem), he yells at his brother even as he stomps closer “now Madara will never agree to peace! Tobira why couldn’t you have been merciful just this once! You’re always so cru..el....” and his voice trailed off as his brother slumped a little and light glints off the blade protruding from Tobirama’s back. “Tobira?” he asks in a small voice taking another step closer, Madara makes a horrible noise and snarls at him as he drops to his knees next to their brothers “Tobirama?” His voice is gentler than Hashirama has ever heard it “it’s ok, our healers can take it from here, you can be done now, you can work on yourself”. As if that is permission the younger man crumples, Madara reaching out immediately to catch him before he can fall to the ground and jar the blade still in him, tugging his unresisting body into Madara’s lap and carefully pulling out the sword. Hashirama makes a sharp noise (taking out the blade will make it harder to heal!) but even as he does, he knows he can’t do anything even his mukoton enhanced power can’t save his bother now.

It doesn’t matter, Izuna is sitting up carefully, a hand to his lower ribcage and the shocked expression on his face quickly turning into a twisted mix of guilt and defiance as he looks to his brother to see his reaction; but for once Madara isn’t looking back. He and Tobirama are completely absorbed in one another, they make and oddly lovely picture; all red and white and black. Madara in his red, red, armor bent over Tobirama’s pale form, his hair a spill of pitch black over the other man almost hiding the spreading blood of his mortal wound. Tobirama, blood on his lips and his hair shockingly white against Madara’s chest and arm and both of them looking at each other like there was no one else in the world. Tobirama reached up, china pale fingers threading through Madara’s fringe where it hides his face before he loses that strength to hold the hair back and his hand falls to his chest. If Hashirama didn’t know better he would think them long time lovers, instead he gets to see his best friend fall in love while coated in too bright blood and his brother looking more content than he has seen in years.

“thank you” Madara murmurs brokenly “thank you” Tobirama smiles around the pain, just the tiniest twitch of the lips and a brightening of the eyes (when was the last time he smiled at Hashirama?) “always” the light in his eyes fades and the pain born tension slipped from his body. Hashirama feels frozen, the whole world far away and removed from him as Madara crumbles forward over Tobirama with a heartrending moan. He can’t breathe. What…. What were the last words he said to his little brother? (accusation, disappointed condemnation, oh god. Oh god.) he can’t see he can’t breathe he can’t think he needs… he needs to be gone from here.

* * *

Madara hardly registers it when Hashirama vanishes, his whole world narrowing to the body in his arms- how had he never noticed Tobirama? How had he never seen this amazing man? How?! He pulls in a gasping breath dragging in the sent of Tobirama’s hair, under blood and smoke and hot steel there is the faint smell of rosehips. He wishes he could smell it clean and clear of the sent of pain. A hand on his shoulder startles him and he jerks his head up staring at the woman bent over them her dark painted lips tight in grief and eyes hard with misery but oddly empty of condemnation “we need to take him home, he should rest on the family lands.” “Uchiha burn their dead normally” a tentative Hikaku put in. “We’ll take him home” rasped Madara, daring anyone to tell him he couldn’t take Tobirama back personally; no one said anything, Madara didn’t think about it, to thankful to question it (if there was one thing in the world the Uchiha revered above all things it was love, when their clan loved they loved without reason or remove, they would never question his right to care for the man he loved in death).

Madara pulled in another deep breath, he reached out to touch his brother’s cheek but couldn’t make himself look at Izuna as they unbuckle Tobirama’s armor to lighten his body before carefully lifting Tobirama, shifting him with the tall woman’s help into a dignified hold with his arms under his knees and around his back the white head tucked against Madara’s neck. “Hikaku, Kikiyo, Mikoto, Izuna, with me. Yuuka, take the forces back to the compound once the dead are collected” Yuuka made a faint disagreeing sound and Madara shook his head “Hashirama is gone, Tobirama is… dead, no one is going to attack me, they’d have to be mad.” “No one will touch any of you as long as none of you don’t start anything with them.” The woman assured them, Madara blinked at her, “what’s your name?” “Touka, Tobirama is… was my cousin, I am third in the field and Mito will agree with me in this.” He nodded; he had heard enough reports about Hashirama’s terrifying wife to easily believe that she could keep her adopted clan in line.

The trip to the Senju clan compound was fast silent and slower in deference to the wounded and tiered shinobi but still they arrived at the gates just before sundown to see a tall regal woman with hair the color of blood waiting for them. Touka waved them back and went forward to speak with Mito, though she must have already heard most of the news from the section of the Senju force that had gone on ahead of them, Mito looked past her straight at Tobirama his white hair glowing in the fading light. She approached them and gently touched his head before looking up directly into Madara’s eyes (brave, few people would willingly meet an Uchiha’s eyes) searching for something in him before stepping back and waving him to follow her. He distantly saw a slim Senju woman with the green sash of a healer step up to Izuna and wave for him to follow her, Mikoto following after “Hikaku, stay with Touka and see to any questions” Hikaku didn’t bother to argue with him before turning the Touka. Kikiyo trailed after Madara, he hardly noticed, she was a quiet and thoughtful woman her presence would not be intrusive.

Mito lead them into the clan house- a large traditional building that must have included several different functions- through the long hallways and to the cooler halls where the dead were tended too. “He needs to be clean” she told him quietly, Madara’s arms tightened convulsively at the thought of putting Tobirama down put knew she was right and slowly lowered him to the long table. Mito reached out and removed the seal of the twilight (a long used seal that preserved the bodies of the fallen to keep them from cooling to stiffness on the way to their home, but it wasn’t a long lasting seal and would need to be reapplied by the monks) and brushing her finger through his hair “he hated being dirty, always to fastidious.” She smiled faintly “I caught him cleaning his armor before going to the healers once, and he always kept a scroll with water and a rag to clean his hair as soon as he could.” She drew in a shaking breath and shut her eyes tightly holding it for a moment as she straightened her shoulders and turned to him “I will take you to his room, you can leave your things there and go take a bath, I don’t suppose you will mind sleeping there? There isn’t time to prepare enough proper beds tonight.” Madara shook his head mutely, Mito looked to Kikiyo who said quietly “I will stand guard for part of the night and switch with Mikoto, the rest of use can make do” “we have enough room for you but you might have to share” Madara’s attention drifted from them at that point distracted by the monks slipping into the room and lifting the H* off his face. He started a little when Mito touched his elbow “come, you need to be clean before you sleep, Tobirama would never forgive me if I let you sleep in his room dirty.”

His room was unsurprisingly tidy but cluttered in a way he hadn’t expected; the desk was covered in papers and the shelves were overflowing with scrolls, old swords hung on the walls and an armor stand stood empty in the corner. Madara slipped through the room looking at everything (a drawing on the desk of two small boys laughing, a poorly formed wooden horse on a shelf, a lovely sea shelf holding a scroll open) to the armor stand, removing his red armor and placing it there (Tobirama’s armor wouldn’t be put back up there anymore) and then gathering a change of clothes from the scrolled he carried. A bath, he needed a bath. He was surprised to see a boy waiting for him picking nervously at his shirt; the boy started and blushed when he saw Madara and straightened up “I’m to take you to the bath Uchiha-sama” his voice was high and nervosa, but not afraid “and what is your name?” “I’m Kasogi Uchiha-sama. Um. Tobirama-sensei taught me sometimes, Mito-Sama said you brought him back” he stopped in the corridor and gave Madara a rushed bow “Thank you for bringing him home”. Madara cleared his throat “I. always.” The rest of the walk was silent.

The ran into Touka on her way back from a bath, twisting her hair into its top knot and with her lipstick already on; her eyes were red rimmed, but she showed now other sign of her grief. She smirked at him half heartedly “use some of Tobirama’s oil in your hair, maybe that will make it manageable” she left him spluttering in her wake but when he entered the bath he looked at the bottles and jars, opening one labeled in the same sleek hand that Madara had seen in Tobirama’s desk. Opening it he was immediately greeted by the scent of rosehips. Ignoring the pressure behind his eyes he turned to wash. (Running the oil through his hair after washing did actually make it easier to brush)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I write fast and don't edit much- this is a place for me to not have to worry too much about perfection and just enjoy it- so things can be mangled at times. (I've got a wonky brain that can't see symbols as well, so I frequently can't even see mistakes) That's not something that's likely to change any time soon, so if imperfect writing puts you off this probably isn't for you


	2. rosehips

Sleep came much quicker than Madara expected, maybe it was the scent that clung to the sheets, maybe it was the exhaustion in his bones, and though it was dotted with dreaming for most of the night it was dreams of white hair on the battlefield- all the times he had seen Tobirama fight, most often his brother but not always. Madara had crossed blades with Tobirama himself once, he had been coming for the back of a kunoichi fighting Hikaku when the albino had suddenly been there between them. All clever- beautiful- red eyes and sharp bone structure. He had pushed back, actually pushed _Madara_ back, not with strength but with a clever application of leverage and then disengaged with a spray of water. The few minutes Madara had fought him had been entrancing even if Hashirama’s appearance had driven it out of his head. (Not completely. He didn’t allow himself to think on it but he couldn’t control his dreams) Now he regretted never pushing to fight the younger brother more often, if he had pushed for the chance maybe he would have figured it out sooner; god he was a fool, what Uchiha found their center just in time to see them die? He should have realized the pull sooner. In his defense he had always assumed that the way his eyes sought out the younger Senju was just worry for his brother, not the beginning of the fascination that would capture his Sharingan more than any other thing in his world.

He opened his eyes in the morning light and took a long moment to just _breath_ though the pain in his chest. Tobirama was gone. Somewhere in this house his body was being washed for burial, the faint cosmetic makeup applied to him his wounds, the seal of the dead refreshed to keep his corpse as close to how he was in life as was possible. He breathed. (Rosehips.) In and out. In and out. His eyes ached. Time passed. A knock on the door started him out of his careful blankness, “Madara-sama? Will you come for breakfast?” Kikiyo’s voice was quiet but blessedly not hesitant- he couldn’t bear it if they feared him right now. “Yes.” He responded roughly. His hair was still damp, but his clothes were clean enough for now, he wouldn’t be impressive but passable was the best he could hope for (he didn’t care. There was only one person he could imagine dressing for now and they- they-) Mito wouldn’t judge him he didn’t think.

The walk to the hall where the Senju main family broke their fast was silent and drifting, Madara felt unreal, like he was floating through the beams of light drifting in though the windows as they left stripes on the wall. There was a sense of emptiness to the house, it felt separate, removed from the movement of the outside world; what would it have been like to grow up here? In this strange empty place, was that why Hashirama reached out so desperately? Why Tobirama curled so far in? God. Hashirama. He didn’t think he could handle to other man right now, not when all he could think of was what Tobirama must have felt to hear only accusations from his brother even as he died. It was just as well that when he reached out his senses there were only a few chakra presences in the hall and none of them were Hashirama (where was he though? He wasn’t in the compound- Madara could tell).

Mito greeted them with a subdued smile as they came in the hall, beckoning him over to the table to sit at her right hand Touka on her other side and Izuna next to him. “Are you well brother?” Madara asked, not quite able to meet his little bother’s eyes. Izuna dragged in a ragged breath and stood, rounding the table to stand in front of Madara “Brother. I had intended to wait but I…. I can’t…..” he took another deep breath (Madara echoed him) “I took from you something beyond precious and I took it without honor or right. As is the way of our clan I now give you my reparations: I did not know that you would love him nor that he would return your regard but even in ignorance I acted without honor. In return I offer you this- for the future you will never have with him I dedicate my future to his wishes, for the days you will morn him and the nights you will hurt I offer you my eyes that you might see without pain when time grows old.” The silence was absolute but for the sound of Izuna’s fidgeting, Madara felt frozen.

According to the traditions of their clan Izuna offering him reparations was both appropriate and necessary; because of the Uchiha Curse of Hatred disputes amongst the clan had to be handled very carefully. If an Uchiha killed the loved one of another clan member (particularly if the death was of the Uchiha’s center- the one person their Sharingan would seek out before all others- because that had an even greater tendency to send them spiraling into mad anger) without due reason or without honor they were bound by clan law to make reparations to the bereft. It didn’t really solve the anger, but it did salve it; the formal apology and gift easing the anger a little. This offering was in line with the offense: Izuna had killed Tobirama in a dishonorable way and therefore must surrender a greater reparation in addition to the promise that he would devote his future to Tobirama’s hopes (it was understood that this was only true in so much as they did not lead to deaths within the clan). If Madara refused then the stain would haunt Izuna forever as it would indicate that Madara found his apology lacking in both honor and sincerity. Madara swallowed. “I accept the gift of your future but will accept only one of your eyes, you are my brother even now and I will not have you so weakened.” Izuna slumped in relief, not at the preservation of his eye but at the promise of his brother’s continuing affection even if it would never be what it had once been. It would be enough. It would have to be.

“Perhaps it would be best” said Mito “if such a delicate surgery was performed here, our healers might be less familiar with ailments of the eyes, but they have a precision of control that most others do not possess.” Izuna nodded, he would just as rather get it done now truthfully. It was frightening, the idea of going into battle in the future half blind but there was no way he would take one of his brother’s eyes even if he offered (which he wouldn’t), once a center imprinted on the Sharingan it would never leave, not matter where the eyes ended up. Not to say that Izuna would feel the love for Tobirama that his brother clearly felt but the dichotomy between what he _didn’t_ feel and what the Sharingan was always looking for would be as sure a path to madness as any; he would learn to function without one eye. (Madara didn’t need to worry about that, his Sharingan was stronger than Izuna’s and having found his center already in time Izuna’s eye would all but be his in emotion and memory. Probably very little of Izuna would be retained- which was for the best. Passing eyes was well known to cause dangerous changes in temperament, Izuna didn’t want the person who was probably that most powerful shinobi alive to have that kind of imbalance.)

As soon as breakfast was finished it was a rather sober parade of shinobi that went to the healers building (“Its too bad we don’t have Tobira anymore, he was always best at coming up with healing ninjutsu on the fly.” Touka’s voice was not hostile, and just a little condemning) Mito leading them. Izuna snuck glances at his brother trying to get a feel for what was going on in his head, but honestly, he probably didn’t want to know if the faraway look was anything to go by. It hurt to see his always strong brother reduced to this, to an empty aching shell, and maybe it was for the best that his Sharingan would be broken; if this was what happened when you lost your center he couldn’t imaging dealing with the pain (he wondered what would have happened if Madara hadn’t had a moment to meet Tobirama’s eyes before he died, would he have realized what Tobirama could be to him? How would he have fallen in love with him- and he would have somehow-? Would the emptiness have grown in him so slowly that Izuna would never even see it until it was too late to do anything to make it right? Would he have lost his brother to disappointment first and then to a dead man as time passed?)

Izuna stood as tall as he could and bit back the fear when they stepped into the healer’s room and Mito spoke quietly to a healer; there was a way these things had to go and it had to be done quickly (it was only permitted to make reparations in the time it took the moon to pass from full the dark, there was no point after that, the hate had already set in too deep) so best to just to get on with it no matter how afraid he was. He looked to his brother and felt sick, Madara wasn’t looking at him and he raised one chakra coated hand to his face gouging out his right eye with a totally expressionless face and setting his eye on fire without even a flicker of a hand sign. Izuna shook to look at his brother (his big brother) vacant and bleeding out of one empty eye socket (Izuna had seen to so many empty eye sockets, strange gapping holes in the faces of his family, that he would never have believed that it could still rattle him. He was wrong) Madara was looking at him now and all Izuna wanted was to make him stop. He was shaking he noticed distantly, a hand landed on his shoulder and it helped but he couldn’t even bring himself to see who it was. He lifted one shaking hand to his eyes (the healer was making horrified sounds he noticed far away, Mito was hushing them), he was hyperventilating but he took a deep breath and plunged his fingers into his eye. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, he could feel nerves and fibers snap under his fingers, the slight soft give of the eye itself as he curled his fingers around it (he was crying, it was harder to hold onto it when it was wet) but with a last snap he could feel deep in his skull the eye came free. He was shaking. He was suddenly terrified he would drop it and made a slight choking sound and a second hand curved under his gently guiding his hand to his brother; he could hardly see through his one remaining eye and the tears but he saw it when Madara took the eye and raised it to his face.

It only took a moment to place it in his empty socket, the Uchiha eyes had long ago evolved to the point that that had slightly different nerves and the second thing any Uchiha child learned was how to reattach eyes (bloodline hunters had a gift for stealing Uchiha eyes, but not for placing them. It took practice) so Izuna’s slid into place, tears easing the way. Madara closed his eyes (both of them) and just. Breathed. (He could already see Tobirama with the new eye, all white and red and focus) When he looked the healer was working on Izuna trying hard not to look too shaken, and Touka was standing behind him bracing him with a hand on his shoulder; she met his eyes (both of them) and smiled a little twisted smile. Madara stepped forward and brushed the healer out of the way, laying his hand and Uchiha charka on the empty eye socket; he tugged his brother into his arms. It wasn’t enough, nothing would ever be enough, not when Tobirama was _gone_ , but it was start and Izuna was his brother. His last brother. He could start with that.


	3. call me home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of worldbuilding in this one

It was Mito that broke the silence that followed the transplant. “Would you explain? Ayme doesn’t see to have been needed at all.” Madara eased back from his brother and turned to Mito, “It complicated, but it’s much harder to successfully transplant a Kekkei Genkai than most people realize; you need Uchiha chakra to make it take.” That was an oversimplification but Madara had no intention of telling Mito clan secrets. The truth was this: the Uchiha had over developed tenketsuin their eyes that lead to it being one of the strongest parts of their chakra coils. All chakra in their system passed through the eyes. It put strain on the eyes that could eventually lead to blindness unless they were replaced with another Uchiha’s eyes which would not integrate fully with the native chakra coils which allowed them to be somewhat self sustaining. The fact that chakra was stored in the eyes- which was part of the problem as more chakra built up over the years as an Uchiha used them- was stalled by the use of another set of eyes through which chakra would pass and pool less freely. After a transplant there was normally a period of adaptation as the body acclimatized to the change in the tenketsuin point and slowly passed small amounts of chakra though the new eyes. It was this lingering chakra from the original owner of the Sharingan that could lead to particularly strong memories lingering in the eyes- retained in the chakra- though they sometime faded with time that fact was that suddenly possessing new and traumatic memories as well as foreign chakra almost always lead to changes in personality- especially given that the dichotomy of memories that were clearly traumatizing and a lack of the emotional response led to a disconnect in the mind that could be almost impossible to reconcile. However, this could be prevented-. Madara had no interest in explaining farther and took a deep breath (he could still smell rosehips in his hair) focusing on dragging his chakra into his eyes (both of them) he had no intention of retaining any of Izuna’s chakra. He wanted his memories to be his own.

Except- as he pulled chakra though his new eye the memories still encoded there spun out in front of him and he let them pass his by uninterested right until- a flash of bright white. He grabbed at the memory pulling to the front of his chakra: Izuna stood on a battlefield facing Tobirama ( _Tobirama)_ who was younger- fifteen maybe and had a devilish glint in his eyes. He smiled a mischievous smile and said _I have a wonderful gift for you, shall I give you despair?_ (Madara frowned, what-) his hands flashed through hand signs and a bright flash of yin chakra (god he was so impressive) flared; Izuna flinched back but frowned he could figure out what-. Wait. No. there was no way. He looked down and froze. _You…_ he looked at Tobirama who looked to be about two minutes from laughing. _How fast can you keep up with a change of balance Izuna?_ Not well. Tobirama would have put him down several times except that he was trying so hard not to laugh. Madara remembered that, Izuna had been livid for nearly two weeks until it faded, and he reverted to his normal gender. It had been worrying (and hilarious) because it was the first time the clan really realized how frightening the younger Senju brother was. To have that memory…. Madara moved- only half aware of the outside world- to sit on a chair set by a bed and slid more fully into the chakra in his new eye; he would have to be more careful. Instead of just clearing the old chakra he would have to sort though the memories for any that might contain Tobirama (he was greedy for any trace of the albino he could find) and preserve them in his own chakra so he wouldn’t lose them.

Izuna watched his brother, he knew what Madara was doing. There was no way he would bend to the traces of another’s chakra affecting him- and the clan head’s chakra was plenty strong enough to override his own through sheer power. He felt it when Madara’s chakra rose up around them, searing and suffocating- the deep heat of a too warm sauna it clogged to lungs and dizzied the mind- he carefully pulled his own chakra closer and wrapped it around himself. It was rare when Madara really called up his energy but Izuna had seen the sheer weight of it bring clan elders to their knees, the only way to resist it was to curl up as closely as possible. The hand on his shoulder tightened (odd he hadn’t ever noticed it was still there) and Touka rasped (it was _Touka_ that was helping him?) “What is he _doing?”_ “He’s calling his chakra to cleans the new eye.” Izuna gasped out “That’s his chakra?!” “Yeah, he doesn’t use it all often." Mito, who was a little pale but standing straight and tall “I knew it was something like this but I’m not half the sensor Tobirama…. Was. No wonder he was in love with your brother.” Izuna gaped at her (it shouldn’t have been a surprise- there was now way Tobirama would have become Madara’s center if he hadn’t been looking back. That was an integral part of it, the Uchiha would look and _see_ and then their chakra would reach out, but if the other person wasn't looking back- if their chakra wasn’t reaching back- nothing would happen. The Uchiha would probably never even notice except for a faint sadness for a few days. Becoming a Uchiha’s center wasn’t a promise of love- there were stories of Uchiha that heated their centers with more fervor than could could be comprehended- but unless hate had already taken root it was hard not to love someone that you knew so completely. And you would know them completely, you would have to when every time they entered the room you couldn’t not look.) “Tobirama loved him?” Izuna whispered horrified. He… god he had taken _so much_ more from his brother then he could really comprehend.

Touka snorted, “He hid it well but if you knew him well enough it was obvious.” Mito smiled a little and looked at Madara “Tobirama never could get warm enough.” She looked so _sad_. “I know he would reach out to Madara’s chakra when he was upset. It made him feel warm.” Touka laughed rusty “I remember, one-time Hashi wasn’t being careful with his chakra and had a bit of a temper tantrum (Hashi’s chakra feels nothing like this, its expansive and blindingly bright, it could be hard on Tobira) it gave Tobirama a horrible headache. He looked awful; he was shivering when he left so once Hashi was over his snit I went to find him to make sure he was ok. I found him sitting at the far end of the garden looking heat drunk; truly he was flushed and more relaxed than I had ever seen. Silly boy wasn’t even paying attention to what he said. He told me he was submerging as much of his senses in Madara’s chakra as he could.” She sighed, the amusement fading “I never saw him like that again, of he still did it I bet, but he was much more careful to make sure no one noticed.” Mito covered her eyes with her hand for a moment “We should. We should leave him to his meditation. I. I need to go- go check on…. On Tobirama’s body.” She turned and swept from the room without looking at any of them. Touka sighed “can we leave him?” Izuna nodded “Mikoto can stay with him, she knows how to weather the chakra.” “Ok, is your eye good” Izuna nodded “Alright, lets go get you an eye patch and then…. Check that the clan isn’t falling apart.”

(Hashirama screamed and screamed and screamed and the trees twisted with his inescapable emotions- Hashirama had never learned to handle them, just letting them bubble up off of him rather then trying to _understand_ that had been- had been- had been- Hashirama _screamed_ and around him the forest twisted, broke)


	4. I'll be gone

Tobirama was watching Izuna from across a clearing his eyes shuttered and careful, _I’m not interested in attacking you Izuna,_ Izuna snarled, his voice tight with heartache as he held the small body to his chest, _Than what are you interested in? Checking that Reia is dead? Chasing her here wasn’t good enough for you?_ Tobirama recoiled, and Madara- untouched by the death of the child several year and heartaches later- could see the pain in his face (of course he could, this was his Center, he might as well have been watching him with the Sharingan every time he looked at Tobirama) _No! Never. I felt the bloodline hunters near the border and, and I felt Reia, I was trying to help Izuna. Why do you think I killed the hunters?_ And he had, he had destroyed them and left them scattered around the clearing (a gory warning to others) but Izuna must have come upon them after that and seen Tobirama bending over a dead Uchiha child with no eyes. _Liar!_ Izuna spat _If you were trying to help her where are her eyes?!_ Tobirama flinched and held out a sealed storage scroll, and Izuna went white with fury _Stealing them?! You sick fuck! How dare you!_ Tobirama recoiled and dropped the scroll, _I wasn’t! I would never, you think I would- I was trying to take them closer to the border so I could give them to a patrol along with her body._ Izuna spat at the other man’s feet, he had loved Reia dearly, she had been named his goddaughter after all, and Izuna- well. he always had lashed out at other people when angry, whether or not they deserved it (Madara blamed their father, Tajima had never cared how well his children handled emotions and Izuna had never really known their mother), it wasn’t really a surprise to see Izuna disintegrating and incapable of seeing anything but his fury and grief (it _was_ surprising that Madara had never heard of this event).

Mikoto’s soft voice pulled him from the memory before he could see it play out farther (he could guess though, Izuna would have taken Reia’s corpse and eyes home without fighting Tobirama this time- he wouldn’t have wanted to risk damage to her body) and Madara had to wonder if Izuna had ever realized that he was wrong and Tobirama really had been trying to help, it was hard to say but he must have sorted it out at least a little or he would have been even worse on the battlefield than he was. A pity things hadn’t changed sooner, Madara wanted to have- well. Madara wanted many things almost none of which he would ever have now. “Madara-sama?” Mikoto asked again and the Uchiha clan head stirred, shaking off the remaining fuzziness of chakra immersion, he had done what he wanted to do and had only been wallowing in memories that didn’t belong to him, “Yes?” “It is time for dinner, you have sat here all day.” He sighed and rubbed his temples, “Alright, I’m coming. Where has Izuna been?” “Meeting with Touka and Mito-sama and writing to Hikaku, I believe they are trying to make sure everything is functioning and putting out feelers for Hashirama-sama.”

Madara shook his head as they stepped into the main house again, “I wouldn’t bother, he won’t come back until he’s ready. Better he blow off what ever he is blowing off where we don’t have to deal with it.” “A harsh assessment but not one I can totally disagree with.” Madara grimaced at Mito’s lilting voice, he hadn’t meant to hurt her with his words and however strong she was it must be hard to be preparing to bury a brother without her husband near her (Hashirama should be _here_ , even if he would have driven them nuts) “I apologize-“ Mito waved his word off before he could even finish speaking “I know as well as you do that Hashirama- for all his strengths- can be… difficult with emotion.” Madara sighed but didn’t bother to pursue the subject as he followed the Senju matriarch into the dinning room as sat at the table. Izuna gave him a tentative shaking smile and Madara nodded back at his little brother- the sight of the patch on his face enough to forestall the image of Izuna’s face speckled with Tobirama’s blood- and the sheer _relief_ on his face was overwhelming and Izuna tucked his head down before Madara could see more than the slight shine of tears in his eye. This was… painful, but Madara had never wanted to hate his brother, not really; so the Reparations and the way they changed Izuna so clearly, the way Madara didn’t have to see only the face that had killed his love, were a welcome chance to try again (thank god).

Madara retired to Tobirama’s room again after diner, it had been decided that his funeral would be the day after tomorrow and Madara… didn’t know how to handle the idea of burying the man he had only had a few seconds to love while alive, didn’t know what he would do when he had to hear the sound of dirt on hollow wood and know that it was _Tobirama_ they were hiding underneath the earth (Madara couldn’t help but feel that that was unfair, Tobirama must have spent so much time hiding behind the masks other people gave him that it made Madara want to weep at consigning him to that fate in death). He needed to see what his Center had been like when he was alive, needed to know something more- something he knew from facts not what the Sharingan told him about his Center, facts not afterimages- something he could hold on to tomorrow (like he was to the scent of Rosehips as it followed him through his day) and what better way than rifling through his paperwork covered desk. It was… infuriating, over half the paperwork here was things that the clan head should have been taking care of and Madara knew that Hashirama was a bit absentminded, but to dump so much on his little brother? It made his blood burn to think of Tobirama hunched over this desk late into the night (and it would have been late, there was far too much to do here and keep normal hours, not even counting his missions) and neglecting his health so that _his brother_ didn’t have to take on the responsibilities he should have been fulfilling- what had made Tobirama do it? Had Hashirama just not been and Tobirama felt he had to in order to keep the clan running?-, Madara had thought that the body he carried home had been lighter than a fully grown shinobi should be even if he was built slim; had exhaustion affected him when he healed Izuna? If he hadn’t been so worn down would he have been able to do it faster or evade Izuna’s blade? Would he still be alive for Madara to take care of?

The question sat like bitter old sage on his tongue and desperate for something else to think of he opened on of the drawers, blinking at the neatly filled papers; what could they be? All the clan notes were on the desk, surly there couldn’t be _more_? There wasn’t. The first thing he pulled out made Madara want to be sick; the draft for a treaty with the Uchiha, clearly much revised and rewritten- not a clean copy- but everywhere scrupulously fair, exactly the sort of thing they would have needed to start a peace in a better world and under that, notes on other clans and how to ally with them, what ways to appeal to their better natures (or strongarm them, Tobirama _was_ a shinobi). The worst though was the plans he found next; blueprints for a village Madara had only dreamed of, everything he had ever needed to make his dearest hopes come true. And in the margins of all of that? Comments snarking about clan members he didn’t like, complaints about Hashirama’s ridiculousness, doodles of people he knew (one of Izuna in full flail mode depicting him throwing a tantrum, complete with throwing himself on the ground and screaming), snippets of stories about the younger brother’s he had lost; all the things that made up the mind of this brilliant, amazing man. And Madara- Madara would never hear them; would never listen to Tobirama complain about Hashirama over dinner, would never see him roll his eyes over the Dyamo’s advisors, never watch his eyes light up as he rambled about new discoveries and ideas, never lie with him in the dark and hold him as Tobirama talked abut the brothers he _still_ missed, Madara would _never_ have any of that, all he would have were stories and old papers.

 _How- How_ was he supposed to live with that knowledge? With Tobirama’s absence a stone in his heart and the bitter smell of rosemary ( _for remembrance_ ) in his head? How was he supposed to go on when this life was broken down the middle and everything he had never known he craved taken from him like the taste of sweet fruit turning to ash? (he would _never_ regret loving Tobirama, not matter what came next, what price he payed; he would never regret the knowing this heartbreaking man. _Never._ ) Madara crumpled forward over the desk before twisting to slid off the chair- he _couldn’t_ get the papers wet, _couldn’t_ ruin them when they were the only thins he had left- curling into himself as grief carved new rivers through his heart. He didn’t see Kikiyo at his door shiver, didn’t know Mito’s head came up in alarm at the feel of his shifting chakra, wouldn’t know for a long time that the choking heat of this soul had gained a new element, that is was strafed though here and there like lightning with something aching as obsidian, that it would always remind Mito of the taste of rosemary and the scent of rosehips ( _remembrance, fidelity and love_ ) when she cared to look.

(Hashirama stared blankly at the moon, all around him the trees were blasted and bent and at his feet grew lilies and yew)


	5. in a day or two

Madara was tired, just… so fucking tired. He was too tired to even be afraid (he should have been, he knew what happened to Uchiha that lost their centers, he knew that fate that awaited him for all that it seemed it would be slow to come) all he wanted to do was lie here and cling to the broken fragments he had. He watched the light move across the wall, gold into rich amber into deep red (his _eyes_ -) finally into gilding silver-white, cool illumination dripping into the room over the windowsill like tears on a page; sometime between watching the cool light slid away and morning he must have fallen into a doze because it was the careful knock on the door that awoke him curled on the floor still and aching. “Uchiha-sama? Mito-sama is asking for you.” It took him a long time to force the words through his brain, and then longer to make himself think about them and respond “Thank you. I will join her as soon as I have bathed, where am I to meet her?” he rasped, there was a pause and then a response that was tired and unsure, “The- the death wing” he could almost hear the boy cringe as he realized what he had said, what he had called those dark halls, but Madara only huffed a tired breath and dragged himself to his feet, he owed it to Mito and Touka to be helpful after all that they had done.

Mito was waiting for him in a cool dim room standing in front of a table with- with- “Madara? Oh Madara, I didn’t mean to make you see- are you alright?” he swallowed, this was, he moved like he was in a dream, walking to the table and fingering the pale blue sheet (Mito shifted uncertainly but made no move to stop him) and then drawing it back carefully – there was a sound, a strange animal keening like the ache of the weeping wind, and Madara couldn’t think about – what was making that sound? There was a hand on his shoulder, cold as chains in winter and searing weight ( _“Madara? Madara?!”_ ), and all he could see – his hands were shaking, when had that started, why were they shaking and he looked – ( _no_ ) _(he was beauty in death, red and white and achingly lovely, but without his spark… without the clever mind and deep hopeful heart - there was nothing left)_

Mito watched Madara’s shaking hands reach out, brushing over the red on Tobirama’s cheek with delicate fingers like Tobirama was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; his fingers firmed a little, cupping a sharp cold jaw and leaning forward to press their foreheads together, dark hair making a curtain around them and just _breathing_ , that faint wounded noise still echoing out of him and shredding the air in the room into ribbons of lost, confused grief. She hesitated, she knew- Izuna had told them- that a Center-broke Uchiha was one that teetered on the edge of sanity, that they couldn’t truly grieve at all, becoming frozen in time as the moment of their loss; unable to move forward or back, always haunted by pain they couldn’t escape. There was nothing she could do for Madara, and all she could do at this point was to help Tobirama (she couldn’t help the living man, only the dead one) achieve what he had died for, peace and the village that Hashirama dreamed of once upon a time, a place for children to grow strong and bright. She took a deep breath, the sickly-sweet-stale smell of death sliding over her tongue, and turned; Tobirama was ready for burial, she would wait outside and give Madara his goodbye, then she would send him after Hashirama, she was not letting her husband miss his brother’s funeral, he had neglected Tobirama enough in life, he would not do it in death. ( _Madara’s eyes were dry and he pressed his lips to the uncovered forehead “you left me. you left before we even had a chance love, how could you leave me?” he whimpered into the empty room_ )

(the forest was silent for miles around, held in the moment before great deeds, be they good or ill, and waiting on the man- god- for the chance to live or die; waiting to see if guilt would overpower grief. _Did he grieve his brother or his ideals?_ )


	6. so I turn away

The wind dragged at Madara’s long dark hair, dragging it into a spill of ink across the sky, and ruffled the white fur against his chin, he tucked his chin down into it, breathing deeply ( _rosehips_ ), letting the tug of the world pull at him ( _he could follow it, he could fade with the wind_ ) before turning to the west; he was no Tobirama, but Hashirama was making no effort to hide his chakra, was indeed flaring it erratically and without control, lashing out at the world around him with no thought to consequences (how very Hashirama). The closer he got to Hashirama the stranger the wood got, trees twisted as if by some great hand, sap oozing bloody down pale trunks and air thick with the scent of tree sap, lilies, and yew; the smell dripping down his throat and clogging his nostrils until he couldn’t smell rosehips at all (how very Hashirama to blot out everyone else even now).

His quary was sitting in a clearing made of destruction and flowers (ah, so that was where the scent was coming from) staring at his hands with a dazed look on his handsome face, “Hashirama.” Madara said, too stern perhaps but… “Mito sent me, we bury- bury Tobirama tomorrow.” Hashirama shivered and the trees shivered with him (once upon a time Madara might have been afraid) but he didn’t respond, Madara frowned stepping closer, “I am assuming the you respect your brother enough not to miss his funeral” there, Hashirama twitched, hands fisting “…. What right do you have to talk to me about him like that? What was he too you other than a _freak_ that would have killed if given a chance” the Senju breathed, voice hard. Madara couldn’t bring himself to recoil, he wasn’t afraid of the truth, but it _hurt_ that he could have had more time “If you had been with your clan and wife you would know.” He said coolly; Hashirama snarled whirling to his feet and turning to Madara with an ugly look on his face mouth opening before he froze, staggering a little “Is…. Is that my brother’s fur? Why do _you_ have it?” Hashirama’s eyes were dry and showed no sign of tears but he had a strange look on his face, something manic and unmoored “Touka and Mito gave it too me, what would you rather it be buried with him?” Madara perhaps shouldn’t be responding like this but… Hashirama was acting so strangely, Madara needed to know why before he let the other man near Tobirama’s loved ones.

“Why are you wearing _his_ favor?” Madara did recoil at that, (what? that almost sounded like) who was he jealous of? Madara for wearing something of Hashirama’s little brother’s or of Tobirama for having claimed Madara? But surely that was… He had never believed that Hashirama was a _great_ brother, but this was _strange_. Madara couldn’t stay, he _couldn’t_ , he would try to kill Hashirama if he had a chance to see more of the Senju brother’s relationship and that wouldn’t be right, not when Tobirama hadn’t even been sent on too the pure lands yet ( _“why did you leave me behind?”_ ); he turned and “ _Don’t turn away from me!_ ” Hashirama hissed something mad in his voice, Madara stopped “Why not? You get what you want Hashirama, you get peace and your village and your ideals made real, what do you want?” he asked, looking over his shoulder through his hair ( _the brush of white fur against his skin almost felt like-_ ) Hashirama was swaying, the anger and ferocity gone replaced with a lost little boy look “I don’t understand” he whispered and Madara- there was something wrong here. Something terribly wrong, he faced Hashirama, wary now, something was wrong as he _wanted_ to want to care but ( _his Center was dead, Tobirama was dead, he would never feel white hair on his chin_ ) it was hard to care about anything anymore; “What do you mean? Your brother is dead, you need to go home and say goodbye” Hashirama shivered (the trees moaned) “My brother, your brother killed Tobirama” Madara stiffened, he might have problems with Izuna, but Reparations had been paid and Touka and Mito had indicated no need for revenge; Madara… couldn’t let Hashirama hurt Izuna. could he?

“What of Izuna?” asked Madara, Hashirama frowned “Tobirama tried to kill him” the Senju said firmly, but he looked confused, lost little boy mixing with a strange avarice; “I could make you have peace” Hashirama said abruptly, Madara stared at him, “What? you already have peace. Your brother _died_ for that peace, why do you need to give us one?” he asked, frustrated (what the hell was going through Hashirama’s head?) and the trees in the circle around them withered, all dying at once, falling to rot with a wet thud; Madara’s muscles loosened, readying for a fight “My brother” Hashirama’s mouth moved, but he didn’t finish the sentence, words lost for a moment before hi face hardened and the yew flowered “My brother wouldn’t have died in peace” and then he changed tracks abruptly- as he had been doing all conversation “all of you are why my brother died thinking I hated him” another shift “you can’t make peace without me” again “he never wanted peace, not like us.” There was a roaring in Madara’s ears and he flashed across the clearing, slamming Hashirama into the ground as fury roared through him “ _You don’t know him._ ” he dragged in breath, ( _rosehips_ ) fur brushing against his chin, and stepped back, leaving Hashirama lying in the lilies “I’ll tell Mito you’re not coming.” He called over his shoulder as he walked away treading Hashirama’s yew into the mud. ( _why didn’t you take me with you? Will you wait love_ )

(the trees bled and rot seeped out, leaching into the ground and turning musty autumn sleep to sludge of decay)


	7. to walk with you

Madara watched the moon move across the sky, time stretching around him like light through crystal his attention split so many way that it was fractured into pieces (Hashirama was a rotting mess where Madara’s sensing found him, never moving from the place Madara had put him and reeking avarice something black and moon-cold shivering near the Senju) (Mito was almost to far to feel but Izuna was with her and that guided his way, both aching in cold clean herbs of the dead) (his clan was quiet and still, waiting and alert and Madara… _children need to learn, whatever Hashi says there must be a system in place to insure they are ready_ … it was time to make Tobirama’s village, Hashirama or not- _not, Madara would not let that rot near anything he cared about_ ). The ache from his hand drew him from the chakra he was feeding into the ground, drawing him back into the cool night as he looked at it; amateur to cut himself on a tree, and bad perhaps to get mokuton thick sap in the wound (his eyes ached), so think with Hashirama’s chakra that it reeked. Madara shuddered, turning his senses outwards again, searching, searching, there, water; he couldn’t stand the feel of Hashirama’s chakra on his skin, not the sulfur-rot taste of it now (what he wouldn’t give for rosehips…).

The Senju compound was quiet and dark except for the brilliant lights filling the main house as he stepped inside, Izuna’s head snapping up from where he was bent over a scroll (one of those that Madara had given Mito, she needed to see Tobirama’s plans though he hated to be parted from them) and **Tobirama laughed softly, nothing more than a puff of air** Madara raised an eyebrow at this lightning flash brother (blood as his Center died and _Izuna_ -) and the younger Uchiha flushed, looking away “I said I would make this village and I will” he murmured, fingers flexing on the parchment. A soft sigh and Mito paused with a cocked hip at the door of the study Madara had found his brother in, a cup of tea filling the air with fragrance **as Tobirama’s hand brushed against Madara’s** and her eyes tired and unsurprised. “Hashirama?” she asked and Madara – (moon-shadow and lilies and bitter questions- did you want me or him?) Tucked his face into the white fur ( _rosehips_ ) “He will not come” Madara said, hesitated “and you do not want him too” Mito’s lips went tight and something dark as old blood flashed over her face, but she asked anyway (brave) “Why?” in a voice like a funeral bell. Madara tongue tasted bitter willow bark as he spoke “Something is wrong with him, some madness I cannot name” (and that was the strangest thing, grief that drove madness he could understand- it was not uncommon- and guilt was a hard master, but the splitting decay was beyond Madara’s understanding).

Mito pressed her hand to her mouth and looked away, words and moments Madara didn’t know (didn’t care to know) flickering behind her eyes as if blown away; but she straightened, tall and regal (Izuna’s eyes followed her) and nodded “Do you think he is a threat?” she asked and Madara’s lips quirked, **the albino sighed “always”** “Yes. He would have hurt me when he couldn’t have his way if he thought he could” Mito’s eyes went huge and afraid “ _What?_ ” he shrugged, “Something is wrong with him” he said again, already loosing interest in the conversation. He cared not for what they did next, if they tried to save – oh, actually “If you must go speak with him take me as well, I will stay out of sight but it is safest for you” Mito nodded and Madara added “The village, it must be made as fast as possible, we are vulnerable as we are” he met his brother’s eyes and knew Izuna understood, Hashirama was a threat and Madara was not a reliable leader, they needed to consolidate if they wanted to be safe from the other clans (and Hashirama), **Tobirama’s hand curled around his and tugged lightly, tired Madara let the younger man** **lead** him out of the room. (Mito blinked in shock at the sudden exit and looked at Izuna for information on what had happen only to see a sad look on his face as he looked after his brother, “Izuna?” she asked softly and the younger Uchiha deflated dropping his head into his hands “It’s started” he whispered.)

Madara dreamed _hands in his hair, long fingers combing through his thick locks gently “Madara…” the soft voice said and the Uchiha slumped back into the strong figure behind him; “Madara, this isn’t healthy” the dark-haired man laughed “There’s no such thing”/light blurring in his eyes and warmth pressed to his side as laughing red eyes met his, he stared up at the – warm voice in his ears as he watched Izuna duck away from Mito’s hand as she grabbed for his long hair_ and woke (and wished he hadn’t)

Morning came too late and too early as Madara watched it bleed light into the air that he only wanted to see grow dark and still (maybe he would dream again) and it was only the knowledge that he could never forgive himself if he missed the burial that forced him up and into his ablutions running his finger through his hair coated in oil **laughed, “Your hair really is unmanageable isn’t it?”** and relishing the smell of rosehips as it filled his nose and stilling when the door opened behind him; “Brother?” Izuna murmured and he hummed absently “I have some clothing for you, if you want to wear something nicer” “Thank you Izuna” he rasped and listened to his brother leave before he turned. Izuna had left a shockingly nice kimono draped over the towel rack, the stark white setting off the brilliant red and the black under layers. It was a kimono he recognized, he had worn it before at his father’s funeral when they burned him; it was the kimono he keep on hand and clear for when someone dear to him died, the one that he had always feared to wear in front of Izuna’s pyre, he never could have known it would be this. breath. In, out, in, out ( _rosehips_ ). Step into the light of the brilliant morning sunshine where Izuna waited for him. Madara paused, hesitating in his steps as he saw the gathered people “Izuna?” he asked quietly and the younger Uchiha smiled tremulously “He was your Center, did you think that they wouldn’t come?” and Madara’s breath stuttered out of him **“I didn’t….why did they come?” disbelief in that rich voice as he looked out at the gathered Uchiha standing unceritnly with the Senju and watching them** “I’m glad” Madara murmured, looking at his people gathered together for him “Maybe this village will be easier than we think.”

The dull thud of dirt hitting wood sunk into Madara’s bones ( _thud_ ) and he let the flower slip through his fingers (would have liked orchid and carnation but they weren’t in season, ~~if Hashirama was here-~~ ) ( _thud_ ) falling in disarray on the wet dirt as it covered the wood (carved with both the Senju vajra and the Uchiha fan, as if he was burying a husband) (all he was burying was his heart) and hid away the man he had never had the chance to love ( _thud_ ). White fur brushed against his chin and his hair blew in a cool breeze ( _rosehips_ ); the Senju burial ( _thud_ ) ceremony wasn’t long, none of the waring clans had long ceremonies anymore, there wasn’t time when you were committing so many to the Pure Lands so fast, wasn’t time to mourn to long ( _thud_ ). **“Madara, please Madara, don’t look, don’t watch” hands on his arm, his hands, his shoulder, “you don’t need to see this”** Madara shuddered and blew out a long breath, turning away from ( _thud_ ) the Senju covering the coffin and looking at where Izuna and Mito were waiting for him and he – he laughed **“Madara… please”**.

(Hashirama’s fingers went tight in the grass- he _wanted_ \- something hot and twisting settling low in his gut as his blood burned _dark hair and white fur/hair mixing together_ and tasting the remnants of spice and smoke _he wanted_ wondering what his brother smelled like, he had never noticed before and **You want?** Hashirama laughed as the plants ((?)) spoke in a dark-moon voice “ _yes_ ” he hissed. Scarlet auricula bloomed.)


	8. today's another day (to find you)

Madara tipped his head back and listened to Mito snarl as she lashed out at the foliage around her in the clearing near him, trying not the rub at this eyes, **“Don’t touch them Madara, let them be” the soft voice said and long fingers captured his hands as they twitched up towards his stinging eyes “They’ll adjust in time”** “Do you know what is causing this?” he asked **Tobirama hummed, “Hashirama’s chakra, do you remember when it got in your hand?”** and Madara twitched, he hated the idea that Hashirama had any influence in him even if it seemed to be making his eyes stronger; he _hated_ it after Hashirama had destroyed the former Uchiha compound in a mad attempt to find Madara, the entire place was overrun with petunia and strangle weed now and it was only luck that most of the clan had been gone at Tobirama’s funeral ( _thud_ ) **“Don’t think about it Madara”** , only luck that the clan had loved Madara enough to bring even children to the camp of their former enemy, only luck and Tobirama that insured that the Senju were willing to set aside the old hatred in the face of Hashirama’s willingness to lash out. “Madara” the Uchiha cracked open his stinging eyes and met Mito’s bright crystal stare “he’s not here” Madara nodded silently and she blew out an angry breath, tucking a few strands of hair back into the two buns she still always wore “ _fuck”_ he sighed; he might not agree but Hashirama was still Mito’s husband even if she hadn’t see him for two months, even if Madara thought it was past time for her to stop looking for Hashirama, **Warmth pressed against his side, fingers tangling with his and a head tucking into his neck** Madara tilted his head and felt white furhair brush his skin ( _rosehips_ ). Mito sighed tiredly as the leaves rustled around them “There’s no point in this is there?” she asked in a voice torn between resigned and hard, Madara had to clear his throat to talk ( _thud_ ) “No,” he agreed “I don’t think so. not anymore, the Nara team that ran into him… Hashirama is gone in anyway that matters” Mito winced going a little pale as she remembers the trees warped with screaming faces and sap bleeding red (Madara burned them in black fire).

“Let’s go” she whispered, walking away and not looking back as the they headed to the slowly growing village, **“I still can’t believe that you used so much of my plans”** Madara snorted “We were lucky to have the” he said; Mito shot him a look but only asked “Lucky to have what?” “The plans for the village” Madara said warmly and she smiled a little, “Yes, we are. _So_ lucky, it’s not even funny really, if we didn’t have those there is no way this could have happened” she said as they pulled to a stop on the cliff overlooking the slowly growing Konoha “Are they still talking about putting his head on the cliff?” Madara asked and **Tobirama groaned deeply, “ _hell no_ , tell them that’s not allowed”** Mito shot him a mischievous look that almost hid the dark shadows lingering there “Yup, he would have _hated_ it” she giggled and Madara smiled a little, he would have ( _thud_ ) he really would have. They dropped down over the edge into the bounds of the village and nodded to the Nara standing guard at the jutsu grown stone wall- the Nara had come to them after they found the patrol that had run into Hashirama- and walked towards the Tower standing in the center of the village (stone again, sometimes Madara wondered what Konoha would have looked like if things were different, wondered how much would have been wood that was stone now).

Izuna stood waiting for them there, chewing at his lip as he waited next to a calm looking Touka leaning against the wall, catapulting into Mito with a relived sound when he saw her and wrapping her in a tight hug her smaller frame relaxing into him **“That one still surprises me” Tobirama whispered leaning on Madara and twisting a lock of hair around his fingers** Madara hummed in agreement; there was nothing firm there yet, but the way that Izuna hugged Mito and Touka looked at both of them was telling, nothing yet but… Madara turned away, listening into ( _thud_ ) the wind whisper over the foundations as the shinobi moved around building a new home, barely noticing the way shinobi bowed out of his way when they saw him coming; the was that sad reverent eyes followed him as he drifted (ever since he had burned back the twisting tansy and thorn covered vines that had crawled at the walls they had watched him like a dead hero) ( _rosehips_ )

Madara looked at the white stone and the Astilbe growing around it ( _thud_ ) before closing his eyes **“Madara, please, don’t stay here” a hand on his cheek and breath fanning over his lips** ( _rosehips and vanilla and faintest thread of grave dirt_ ) **as Tobirama stepped closer, “Don’t do this to yourself, please”** “Where else would I go?” Madara whispered dropping his head forward tipping into the cool neck and sucking in a shaking breath ( _rosehips_ ) **fingers running through his hair and a soft hum “Anywhere that’s not here” he replied quietly. “You don’t need to stay here”** Madara laughed into nothing but air ( _thud_ ) and let time twist around him as it would. Touka’s presence was preceded by the dark smell of the insane that she burned for her bother every morning she could and it soaked into Madara’s nose like bitter perfume ( _rosehips_ ) “You should stop coming here” she said and he twitched, thrown by the echo and suddenly it rose up in him as it did some times; the howling, screaming, tearing agony of the empty place in his heart (his eyes seared with pain) “ _He’s gone_ ” he choked out through the taste of rose petals in his throat, Touka said nothing and a thin keen slipped out between Madara’s lips (he would never hold Tobirama, never love him, never teach him what it was to be valued as he should be and wasn’t for so long) ( _thud_ ) (never, never, _never_ ) “ _Please”_ he gasped, dropping to his knees “ _please, please kill me, let me go to him_ ” he begged, begged in a shattered voice and Touka let out a choked sound and dropped to her knees next to him and dragged him in to lean on her “No, no Madara, I’m sorry but we needed you, I’m so sorry” she whispered into his hair and she chorused him in her strong arms as Madara struggled against the burning pain in his heart and the agony in his eyes (was that blood or tears on his cheeks?).

(Hashirama stared at the creature in front of him, anger writhing into the tansy and moldering rosemary. He _wanted_ and he would _have_ what he wanted. He would have his peace and his _MadaraTobiramaMito_ as well)


	9. hey brother

Mito looked at Madara, quiet and still on the couch of the house all four of them lived in together tucked close to the tower, to the heart of their power; she wondered what this place would have looked like if it hadn’t been built to push back the invasion of the forest every full moon, would there have been less high walls? Would it have been built in something other then defensive rings? Would there have been more greenery? Touka had insisted on leaving space for plants someday “ _He won’t live forever, and I won’t have our grandchildren live in a place of stone and steel alone”_. Would the clan heads houses have been separated more instead of clumped around the tower like they were? Would there have been more civilians? She supposed it didn’t matter really, her Hashirama, the man she had loved was gone and what was left in his wake was nothing he would have ever wanted (her Hashirama would have been horrified by his nature now). “Is he asleep?” she looked up and glanced at Izuna as he stepped into the room, the patch over the empty socket stark against his pale face (Madara’s eye had proved to powerful for Izuna to control every day and he saved it for battle when he needed the power) “Yes, has been since Touka brought him home” Izuna grimaced and looked at his brother, pain writ large on his face as he sat next to Mito and cautiously tipped to lean his head on her shoulder (he always hesitated, even after all this time) “It’s impressive he’s lasted this long, much longer than others before him” Izuna said tiredly.

Mito laughed “He’s mad Izu, not sure how that’s a good thing” Izuna’s mouth quirked a little “Mad but not dead or on a rampage, that is better than many do really” his voice was so sad and tired that is sat in Mito’s stomach like curled blood, “He has one foot in the grave, you know that” Touka’s voice made Izuna start though Mito had sensed her already (her senses were much better now thanks to Tobirama’s notes and she _needed_ them badly, they needed all the warning the could get when Hashirama was coming) “he’s only holding on by a thread” her voice was harsh but her hands were gentle when she used that wet cloth in her hands to wipe away the blood on Madara’s cheeks. “I know” said Izuna in a hard voice “but he is hanging on and I don’t even know how. He bonded with Tobirama so fast and hard, even for an Uchiha finding their Center it’s strong” Touka looked up, sharp features softened by a soft smile “Tobi had the effect on people, once he let you in it was hard not to love him” she stood and looked at Madara sending an uneasy look at the bloody cloth, they had never talked about Madara’s eyes and the way that they bled; Izuna had looked into it as much as he could but there was only so much he could do and he hadn’t found anything useful yet.

There was movement and for a second Mito was sure that a lock on Madara’s dark hair shifted but mothing more happened except the breeze in the room sent more of it to swaying, gods to tides Madara’s hallucinations were catching; another thing they never talked about other than Izuna’s one comment that the Sharingan had strange effect sometimes, they might not even be hallucinations but projections of the Sharingan memories (Mito wondered sometimes, the finding of a Center required two people to feel it and tied cakra together and chakra was soul made real, maybe there was a fragment of Tobirama that curled tight around Madara and held him close, it would but just like her little brother to find a way to do that for someone he loved). “Come on, he’ll sleep as long as he sleeps, we need to eat” Touka had always been the most practical of them, Mito had no idea what would happen with out her; the red head sighed and stood, holding a hand out to Izuna and brushing a kiss over his lips as he stood before following their third into the kitchen, it would be what it would be and they would ride out the storm as best they could as they had since Tobirama died.

* * *

 ** _“Love, you need to sleep more”_** _Madara laughed a little, body loose and easy at the feel of fingers in his hair trying to untangle the knots there “Then you should visit me more beloved, you know I can’t sleep without you” a sigh, **“I can’t Madara**_ **, _you know that love, I’m not really here”_** _blood choked Madara’s throat and his eyes ached **“oh, darling no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – relax I’m not going anywhere for now”** Madara twisted, wanting nothing more than to be closer and knowing he couldn’t, “I miss you” **“You hardly knew me”** Madara laughed at the words “And how does that make any difference? I’m Uchiha beloved” a quiet laugh- all his laughs were quiet, had he been like that _before? _- **“No, whatever you are thinking of stop, it won’t help, relax love, I’m here for now”** it was a lie and they both knew it but Madara didn’t say anything, not now._ (thud) _“I think Mito is pregnant” he murmured and Tobirama’s fingers jolted in his hair before moving again slowly **“Really? an Uchiha-Uzumaki child, gods I don’t envy them trying to raise that”** _(thud) _Madara snorted a laugh, “Right?” he hesitated, but if there was anyone that he could tell this is was his Center “I don’t want them to raise it in fear and all but a siege, that’s not what we wanted. We wanted a life where war wasn’t the only way to live.”_ (thud) _“All the clans have come together here, the only thing left is…” **“Hashirama.”** “Yes” deep sigh _(thud) _and Madara’s face was taken in long fingered calloused hands, regretfully Madara opened his eyes as fingers brush under his eyes,_ for one moment he saw red eyes, but then it was just the red of the blanket draped over the couch “ ** _You eyes Madara, remember your eyes, you have the gift of both brothers. You will do what you must, and I will be waiting”_** he stared at the densely knit in brilliant scarlet and breathed ( _rosehips and vanilla and faintest thread of grave dirt_ ).

Breath. Light touch on his shoulder and his brother knelt in front of him, “Mada, will you eat?” _(thud)_ Madara nodded and levered himself stiffly off the couch, there was things to do, he would do what he must- they all did- and that would have to be enough, tomorrow would come and Madara would live to see it and do what he had to do. In time the shadow would recede, and the smell of yarrow and tansy would fade and new life would take up the shield, and if Madara had his way they would never need the sword, not the way this generation had needed too. Some day war would be over, after all; he would do what he must and that had always been more than other men.

(A hand on his shoulder, firm and restraining (there had only ever been one person who touched him like that, that held him back when his rage- so rarely really set off- filled him to over flowing) and Hashirama turned, half expecting to see chastising red eyes on him and for a second he thought – but “Are you ready” Zetsu’s voice pulled his eyes away and when he looked back there was nothing but the bleeding trees.)


	10. what if I'm far from home

The wind whipped to fast over the trees and stone, Mito’s head snapped up in the Tower where she slaved over the paperwork and Madara’s eyes turned north **“It’s time” a kiss brushed over his temple** and he took in a deep breath ( _rosehips and vanilla and dreams_ ) rising, for a moment he looked at the gunbai, eyes lingering in on his faithful weapon. He smiled a little and shook his head, that wouldn’t serve him today, Izuna’s son could carry it someday and walk into battle with his clan’s history behind him, Madara walked into this battle as he was and with Tobirama’s fur on his shoulders and words held close.

Mito was heading to him in the hall and he shook his head at her confusion with his sudden appearance, it didn’t matter how he had known that Hashirama was on his way they had a battle to fight for now. Mito looked at him and his empty hands (looked at the peace in his eyes) and knew “It’s time?” Madara smiled and nodded and she ducked her head so he couldn’t see her tears, she wasn’t ready for these losses (she knew she would never be). The runner with Touka and Izuna and the clan heads met them at the gates and Madara walked straight past them without even a glance. Touka looked at Mito and she nodded, the other woman’s face drew tight and she glanced at a white faced Izuna; the Uchiha’s lip trembled and he dashed after his brother, Mito and Touka behind him after a quick word to the other shinobi to watch the gates from the wall – not that it would matter what they did if Madara failed, if he did they would all die not matter what. Madara was the only one that might face Hashirama and kill the madman and they all knew it.

* * *

“Madara” the Uchiha hesitated at the sound of this brothers voice, shifting to look at Izuna over his shoulder, **“He needs you, don’t leave him without a goodbye love”** Madara held out and arm and Izuna lunged forward tucking himself under his brother’s arm and hiding his face in Madara’s strong chest. “I don’t want this” Izuna whispered, Madara looked up at the late afternoon sky and said nothing about the wetness in his voice “We do what we must” the Uchiha said and Izuna shook, hands too tight in Madara’s long hair. They stayed there with Mito and Touka at their backs until the flowers in the field began to go brittle and dry, flacking away into nothing and then Madara tipped his head down, murmuring into his brother’s hair “You have to live Izu, I won’t have your child grow up fatherless”. Izuna reeled back and Madara touched his wet cheek before turning to the dark heart of the forest and stepping forward “Hello Hashirama”.

(Izuna gaped and spun, wide eyes landing on Mito, a _child_ , he was going to have a _child_?! If he was – if there was a child -he was not going to raise them in a dark world. Mito smiled at him, a confused tilt to her head and he swallowed moving to stand next to her. She went stiff, eyes darting past him as her face went white, “There’s something else with Hashirama” she whispered and Touka and Izuna immediately moved to flank her. Izuna took a deep breath and forced himself not to look at his brother as Touka spoke “We’ll take care of it, Madara needs to focus on Hashirama” he took a deep breath and stood tall, “We won’t fail, we do what we must” and Mito laughed, a little wild “Of course we won’t we are the strongest of our generation”)

Madara met Hashirama’s eyes, already surrounded by the dark lines and stark swirls of sage mode – only, there was something wrong with it, the lines weren’t smooth, jagged and broken they failed to connect some places **“His chakra won’t run smooth like that” Tobirama said critically** and Madara smiled “I would say it’s good to see you again but..” Hashirama’s eyes were wild and feral, madness eating away at him even as it twisted the plants around him – decay and rot and brittle and broken, nothing even recognizable as any on plant. “Madara, I want my brother back.” Madara forced himself not to recoil, this was not a surprise (or it shouldn’t have been) “I will have what is mine – you, my brother, my peace, all that should have been-“ **“Are you really going to let him monologue at you? Honestly Madara, there is no need to let him have a villain monologue” the distaste in Tobirama’s voice made** Madara laugh. Hashirama stuttered to a stop, looking confused; Madara shook his head and let his eyes spin, “Shall we dance?” and then all was fire and death.

Black flames set the world to a burning hell as the sky warped red and blue, bleeding negative and cold even as the very earth tried to swallow all that lived and walked on it. Tangling death and rot, reaching thorns and bending branches burned and cut, blood dripped down Madara’s cheek and he let the Susanoo spring to life, laughing as Hashirama shouted in wordless anger as the attacks he tried to slip past Madara at the village were easily thwarted (the Uchiha knew there was fighting beyond them, knew that some other foe must have appeared, but he…trusted that his comrades, his family, would be more than equipped to handle it). Growth and destruction ragged together, growing things gone wrong and needing of the rest that Madara’s power could bring them (Madara wondered a little if in another life their places would have been switched, if he might have grieved for a brother and sought to burn all that he thought had taken Izuna from him, if in another world fire would be the enemy- if destruction would be evil and life good- if there would be another world where all that he loved would be in ruins. Perhaps that should make him pity Hashirama and yet…he felt nothing as he looked in the eyes of the man he had once called his dearest friend).

Madara twisted and bled and burned, Hashirama screamed and yelled incoherently and his ally, whoever it was, fell in a twist of power that Madara felt wash over him like the cold touch of the moon and then the world held its breath. **Hands on his temples breath on his cheek “Remember your eyes love, remember what it means to have the chakra of both brothers” (** _The ache from his hand drew him from the chakra he was feeding into the ground, drawing him back into the cool night as he looked at it; amateur to cut himself on a tree, and bad perhaps to get mokuton thick sap in the wound (his eyes ached), so thick with Hashirama’s chakra that it reeked._ **) “you have what you need, all you have to do is _see_ ”** and then Madara opened his eyes and he _did_.

(Izuna could have screamed when Madara dropped his hands and tipped his head back as if into a touch only he could feel, _no_ now was not the time for him to hallucinate! But, there was something…a ghostly shape, etched out of sky and refracted light, light fingered hands on Madara’s temples as the memory stood on the wind and bent close to Izuna’s brother. Madara looked at Hashirama and the other man’s eyes went wide as he flinched away “What -? Your _eyes_ ” and Madara smiled as he raised a hand, the whisper of yesterday echoing his movement, cold gaze over Madara’s head as Hashirama whimpered with frozen gaze. “This was all I ever needed father” Madara’s voice echoed with time that Izuna didn’t understand as the apparition brushed a kiss over his cheek “you punished me for loving and never gave me a chance to find the one I needed most” Madara curled his finger and the memory behind him curled the outstretched fingers together as Madara spoke “goodbye brother, walk in peace”.

Time shivered and shook, the world bled with griefs older than time and space spun around the three and then – _stopped_ , still, calm, nothing. Hashirama fell, dropped onto his back in a broken shape of pride and regret.)

Madara _Indra_ breathed out ( _rosehips and vanilla and time_ ), Hashirama _Ashura_ fell, (thud) the wheel spun, (.thud) he tipped his head back breath on his cheek and fingers tangled with another’s (..thud), “Thank you love” (…thud) “Anything for you Madara, I am always with you” (….thud) a breathless laugh, Madara closed his eyes (…..thud) “If you take him **from me in the next spin I will find him, I will not loose him Father.** ” Indra _Madara_ said (……thud). Tobirama’s arms curled around him as their arms dropped (…….thud) and two voices spoke as one, challenging the world and all the gods **“** _”_ **I** _I_ **choose** _choose_ **_Him””_ **(…..t….h...u..d).

(the wheel spun, the Shikigami stopped his brother’s hand)

(Death shook his head)

**_“always”_ **


	11. endless road

In Konoha’s cemetery was a smooth white stone surrounded by Astilbe with the epitaph recently carved anew: Tobirama, beloved, loved in life and death; never forgotten. Next to it, pressed close, was a smooth black stone, new carved: Madara, who loved like fire, all that you choose shall be yours.

Hidden in the spaces between time two souls curled together; all white and black. Tomoe were stark against Madara's white robe, his hair a spill of pitch black over both; Tobirama, his hair moon white against Madara’s dark, was soft and calm and both of them looked at each other like there was no one else in the world, the Center of all they loved tucked between them in their clasped hands.

The wheel spun 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by kitsunesongs "Ooh you know what would be fun? If Tobirama dying like that - dying for Hashirama's dream - also made HASHIRAMA snap and he became like in Blighted, with the ever growing Forest swallowing up the world, while Touka and Madara go around creating havoc and trying to do the moons eye plan - and then there's Mito and a repentant, guilty Izuna running a village based on Tobirama's notes and wishing he hadn't killed him... So Hashirama and Madara are both crazy and evil and trying to destroy/save the world but they're also enemies" - Madara didn't end up evil in this one and there was no murder road trip unfortunately and then this sort of went sideways at the end and wandered into an end I didn't expect, unruly story...


End file.
